Monday, November 28, 2005

EviL Twin

Meet Kipp.

Imagine the time when you wished you had a twin and had all that fun. How you thought of all the pranks you would play on people by switching identities. How you would give 'mischief' a whole new meaning. How you would go out with your twin's partner, and then scare them by revealing your trueself later. Unfortunately, I don't remember making any such wish in my childhood, probably because I was never placed in a situation where I didn't have a twin.

Coincidentally, the worst moment of my life is exactly the minute when Kipp came along about 60 minutes before I was born. Well, that doesn't exactly count as a moment of 'my' life, since I was not born as yet. But anyway, you probably would have guessed by now who and what, I am referring to! Like I said, Meet my evil twin, Kipp. There are some incidents that stand out in my mind like a red feather, but the ones that I am goin' to talk about are a little about Kim and then some about Elixa.

Kipp and I are practically the same person as far as physical appearances go. Thank goodness for the differences that exist inside that body, inside that head to be more specific. The differences are not enough to throw off a stranger, but good enough for our mom to make out who's who. I was never sure whether that was a good thing, but I was sure that it was a bad thing when Kim couldn't make out whether it was Kipp's tongue or mine.

Kipp's simple explanation to that was quite simple. "Didn't you break up with her anyway, bro!?" Is it a crime to pose as your brother and make out with his ex-girlfriend just before she left town. So Kim ended up making out twice with Brad before she left town. How did I get to know about this little rendezvous? Kipp told me. The brothers share the common trait of brutal honesty if confronted. Kim called up that morning before she left and said, "Goodbye Brad. I feel bad that I've to leave town and leave you here. I wish I didn't have to. I hope to meet you sometime. Last night was wonderful, I'll cherish it for a long time to come." What the fuck!?

"What the heck, man!? That is so not cool.", I screamed, "Kim said she 'came' for a 'long' time." Kipp reciprocated with a platitude, "Chill budd. Nothing happened. You were just kissing her goodbye." I had broken up with Kim about 4 months back.

"I am over Kim, dude. She and I talked about this, and decided that separating was the best thing, as we were goin' to different universities." Kipp disagreed. That was high school. We went to the same university, to major with the almost same degree, and to kill my peace of mind.

Sometimes, I ask myself, whether Kipp ever thought that I was a pain in his neck. I wouldn't obviously go kissing his girlfriends, but maybe I could study more, and give one of his papers, and make him the topper of his class. Yeah, that would probably be the best way to get back at him. Yeah right! Like that was goin' to work. God, How could I be so pathetic!?

Things were goin' pretty smooth for the 2 of us. Kipp was doin' whatever that he was doin' and I was doin' pretty much my stuff. After Kim, the next girl I got attracted to, was Elixa. Elixa looked like an intellectual type, the one who would discuss rocket science before having sex. Totally my type. I happened to discuss this with Kipp over coffee in the foyer.

"So what's the problem?" quipped my 2-horned brother blowing the disgusting smoke my way.

"Err...I am not sure whether she likes me, man!", I sipped my coffee, observing Kipp drag on his cigarette.

The conversation ended after discussing who would call mom and when, and who was to send flowers to Aunt Katie etc. Kipp paid the bill and moved off, leaving me with 'Ulyssess' that I was studying that month.

The next morning, Kipp barges into my room, and pulls the blanket, exposing me in my pyjamas, "Dude, you got a breakfast date with Elixa. Hurry, you are to meet up with her at the State Fountain Bakery. Now."

"WHAT!? What the fuck, dude!", I glared through my sleepy eyes, jumping out the wrong side of my bed.

"I just called Elixa for some notes. She'll be expecting Brad to receive some notes at the bakery. Pronto.", Kipp said matter-of-factly plomping onto my undone bed, "Don't be late."

What the fuck. What notes. "What notes?", I screamed from under the shower.

"You are researching how computer science can help architects make the world a better place to live. You are writing a paper on that.", Kipp blabbered, "You could talk to Elixa about that. She could give you some notes, and then you could play them on her lovely body. He he heh."

Kipp would never understand my feelings. I was seriously attracted to this girl, and lust was not on my mind as far this girl was concerned. To think of it, lust was not on my mind at all. That reminds me, my frivolous brother was a glib talker, a smoothie, a verbal flirt, but never did he sleep around, to the best of my knowledge. Strange, I always thought. Hmmm.

The breakfast date went on to many dates to her being my girlfriend, my live-in partner, and then a difficult break-up. Kipp was with me through all of that. Wicked that he was, after the break-up he fixed me with a job in Paris. He joined me a little while later. Ronnie was introduced to me by Kipp, and so was Zara, Winona, Preitre, and Yvonne.

Kipp probably fucked up a lot of things for me, but also helped me in a numerous ways. The worst moment of my life also happens to be my best moment, I guess. A conundrum in it's simplest form.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Harking down the Memory Lane.

Found some posts that were written in the beginning of 2004.
When I used to rub my nose against hers, and feel her eye lashes brush against my face, her curls tickling my neck, it felt like bliss never felt before.

The tingling giggling that escaped her soft lips, the light fingers that ran through my hair, the beady look in her eyes, used to get me lifted to the top of the world.

The way she used to wrap her arms around me, hold me tight and snuggle into my neck, nibble my ear, and blow my hair back.

The time when I used to peck her neck, steal a kiss, and touch her hair, and whisper a 'hey' into her ears, used to get her high.

And when she broke her hand, the stunts that she used to try in kitchen, her attempt to cook, whilst me sneaking up behind her to give her a helping hand, and blow air into her ear, tickle her back, caress her elbows, and all that still brings a smile to my face.

The shine in her eyes, when I used to go to her office, the glee on her face on seeing me, was worth all the effort to walk up to her place.

The way she used to sneak up behind me when I used to be punching away at the keys, and cup my eyes, and I am sure, she always hoped, that I never guessed another name other than hers.

The time when she sat and watched me wrap up my documents on Valentine's, and how I messed up all her plans to go on a long romantic drive.

The night when we had a small misunderstanding, and I could feel the tear rolling down her eyes over the phone, and listen to her stoic voice. I hitched a ride from a stranger to go to her place, the test next day could go to hell.

The drive to Billoxi holding her hand, while she sat besides me, very coy. Her nails digging into my arm as we watched 'Red Dragon'.

The day when I never saw a tear in either eye as I boarded my flight to NY. The three trips to Boston, from New York. The last one trip, I wanted to see her so much, and she declined, and then she changed her mind, and asked me to come by at the last moment. For we knew that after that day, we would not see each other for a long time to come.

The bus ride to her city, in the rains without any rain gear, no food to eat, and no bus to board for long, the never ending wait in the pitter-patter, to get onto the bus for her. The arrival at 4 in the wee, the sleepy look in her eyes, and I hugged her real tight that night.

Watched a movie at home, that was one of the things we loved doing. The romantic mood in the air, the buzz of the television, and the two of us cuddled into each other.

The hug the next morning, the last kiss before we let go of our fingers, the sight of her walkin into her department, the final wave of goodbye, the walk to the rail-station, with the thought that she would never be mine.

* * *

I sketch, she sketches better. I paint, She paints better. I am unconventionally sensitive, she is conventionally sensitive. I am lil' emotional, she is super emotional. I am indifferent, she is quite indifferent, but chooses to believe that she is not. I am a chatter-box, she talks reasonably. We both like the same kind of scenarios for photography. She loves fast-cars, I love driving any car fast, but choose to drive safely most of the time. We both have gone to sleep at the wheel. I love to laugh, she's got the best smile. I am not coy, she is sorta-coy. I love to hold her hand, she's got the nicest hands. She likes to nudge, and I love her nudge. I don't like to see her cry, luckily she doesn't cry. I like the adventure-spirit in the girl, she is quite a sport. I am hyper-ambitious, she's got her head on her shoulders. I am fantasy-minded, she's practical. Her smile makes me feel good. She loves being with me, I trust. I simply love being with her. She is 3 months younger to me, till somedays back, she thought she was older than me. She is my best dance-partner. I have seen her going all red with blush. She doesn't get green with envy, she's gets white with envy. Hmmm. I have seen her that way. She looks cute, and lovely, anyway, just as she is. She looks beautiful, when she gets up in the morning from bed. She sounds wonderful when I wake her up in the middle of her sleep, sometimes. He he heh...No no, I don't do that on purpose. She's a nice person. She thinks too much. She thinks way too much. She worries a bit more than a normal girl. She is not the nagging types. That's kinda odd for a girl, but that is true. Never seen her nag. She does not crib, she does not gossip. She talks sense. She is good-humored. Sometimes, odd-humored, with only her laughing, which is not funny. Especially, when it is my leg that is getting pulled. She loves to get cosy. She rocks my world. She laughs with me. I love her very much, and she does not love me. End of story. Hmmm. And I still haven't written much about her. Something went wrong somewhere, and I don't really know why and how. Guess, I shoot my mind, without really thinking how the other person might hear it. Hmmm.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Complaints/Comments/Remarks: The red crepe skirt.

Age: 5; Grade: 1st

It was Class 1B with Mrs. Briganza as my class teacher. If I had a better analogy than Hitler, I would have probably used it for Mrs. Briganza to describe her, but alas Hitler is all what I have got. Mrs. Briganza sincerely hated me, and as luck would have it, she stayed in the same building as I did. How many sins did I have to commit to get that accomplished!?

I never comprehended Mrs. Briganza's sinister and ulterior motives behind making me the Class Monitor. Probably, as my dad always put it, the class monitor was the one who used to stay behind after class and shut the window panes, and be the first one in the morning to let the sunlight in. Other than possessing those window skills, I did not consider myself to be talented in anyway. In retrospect, I would like to say, may be she did notice my people skills even at the tender age of 5.

Parent's Day is what I thought it should be called, but they always tagged it as Parents Day, making the same grammatical error every year. I was amongst the 'chosen' ones to perform in a dance onstage on that important day. Parent's Day was the day when all the bright kids were felicitated, and it was rubbed into other not-so-bright kids how not-so-bright they were, by not permitting them to be there for that 'Day'. So there were the chosen bright ones, and there was me chosen to give my two left feet performance.

I had no qualms about the dancing on stage, as I loved participating in shows. Primarily, all the participants for shows always had to go for rehearsal, so I could legally skip classes; that explains my love for shows. That year the little guys were required to wear a white frilled shirt, black pant and red crepe paper bow tie. I never asked myself why did they not advise us to wear a cloth bow tie, probably because the little girls were required to wear a red crepe paper skirt. Some questions went unanswered.

During one of those rehearsal times, I was sitting quietly in the third row of the class benches, right behind Nikki. Nikki was a beautiful girl and was wearing the red crepe paper skirt and was also my 2 left feet partner in crime. Until this date, I sincerely pledge that I dropped my eraser and I had gone under the bench to retrieve the eraser. And in my efforts, I ended up ripping apart Nikki's crepe paper skirt leaving her in her panties and white shirt. Risky Business.

In school, we had a small blue book where teachers used to write down remarks and complaints which had to signed off by one of the parents, just to make sure that the parents of the felon-kid were aware how 'bad' their ward was at school.

Back home, I silently crept up to my dad, who is way more sensible and considerate than my mother, and showed him the little note in my blue book which I did not comprehend. My dad read the note twice and looked at me with an inquiring glance, and laughed out aloud. Hitler-at-home a.k.a mom was immediately called for an audience.

"Our son has got his first complaint in his book. You won't believe what his teacher has to say about him."

My mom gave me a stern glance, and inquired what did the teacher had to say about their darling son.

"Brad went under the bench and tore off a girl's skirt. Such behavior cannot be tolerated. Please meet up with me at the earliest possible." My dad chuckled and looked at mom.

I wasn't questioned, plausibly because the note was beyond comprehension.

Dad and Mom decided to meet up with Mrs. Briganza at school the very next day. I knew I was in trouble, but just didn't know how deep.

"Your son is a disgrace. He has spoiled the name of his teacher, the name of this school, and and the name of his parents." The diatribe went on for sometime, I believe, before I was condoned and let off.

My parents didn't know what to say, and apologized for their son's crime and came back home. I had to apologize to Nikki and kiss her on her cheek for some reason, as my gesture of friendship.

At home, I was given a warning not to get into trouble 'ever'; now I didn't try to convince them that I don't really try to get into situations like that. Ssshh...It just happens.













The wolf in the lambskin nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Knuckled.

Would you believe it if I told you that I work for the Mafia? Of course, the Sandlers don't call themselves that, but I have my concerns. And my concerns are very gradually metamorphosing into fears.

4 months back, I was a happy man. Life seemed like it had nothing but the best to offer. I had a good job, a good family life, and most importantly, my peace of mind. July 29th 2005 changed all that. I got accepted into Eagles Corp for the position of a... err...uhmmm...oh well...whatever, they were paying me handsomely, I didn't bother to ask. They mentioned the word 'software' here, a 'manager' there, and a '$8000 a month plus benefits' underlined, and coated with sparkling glitters. I should have smelled something fishy; not only was the wool pulled completely over my eyes, but stuffed deep into my nostrils as well. I flew into California, business-class, all paid for. God, what company pays a 28 year old novice, eight thousand bucks and flies him first class. I had tied a knot to the woollen cloth behind my head.

My first day at work, I was introduced to everybody who worked at the company headquarters. It seemed a bit awkward to hug and kiss anybody, but I thought that was just the way people greeted when one was to work at an Italian place. How surprised was I to be when I was to realize that I was actually being made a part and parcel of the real-life 'The Godfather'. Ignorance was bliss. Since I had no idea what my designation was, I assumed that I would be informed of my responsibilities after all the introductions. But Chuck was of the opinion that we should go and celebrate my California arrival. Who was I to complain? The mexican luncheon was awesome. I was tempted to ask about the job profile, but I let it rest. I was done working for the first paid working day in California.

Two months went by with me running from the Accounts department to the Software Division to the Garage. By then, I had gathered that my work around the company was to keep people informed and happy, come what may. For past-time, I used to sit and stare at the computer screen, and stare real hard for long hours. Sometimes, I thought I did telepathically manage to switch the monitor off, but that was just Windows doin' it's usual thing. I started thinking of new ideas to keep myself amused and occupied. I organized projects like hooking up surveillance cameras in every unit, getting the employees on the time-clock, having GPS notifications to my server so that I get to know where my employee was all the time. Those were company phones, I could do whatever I wanted to. The owner, Mr. Sandler had jokingly told me in my first week at Eagles Corp, "Brad, you have the License to Kill. Do whatever it takes, to get this company organized." Little was I to know that, that was not a joke at all.

Our conference room is a nice little place, with a nice round rosewood table, matching chairs, technical facilities, and other niceties of life to keep everybody happy. Though there were certain facets of the room that had me confused, like the hook in the ceiling. I know for a fact that the company wouldn't hang a chandelier in there, and that's when it all dawned on me. That hook wasn't for hanging chandeliers at all, holy cow. I shuddered, and tried to push the thought out of my head. I concentrated on the 'ON' that was pasted on the wall. I thought it was a nice word to keep everybody motivated, and focused on their goals. I looked at the 'ON' real hard, and almost shrieked. That was no motivation symbol, that was a cue for the person who would be hung upside down from the hook to say what it read. Oh my god, Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into. The wool was beginning to shred.

A lot of previous incidents and situations were being replayed in the head. When Mr. Sandler said Ramon Lopez was to be fired from his job, I didn't realize it then, that Mr. Sandler never jokes. Ramon was to be fired in reality. Ramon was never seen from that day onwards. It's like Ramon never existed at all. I made the mistake of asking Billy about Ramon, and Billy replied with a glare, "Ramon, who?" Ramon had been vaporized.(Apologies to Orwell) It would have to be a devil's dare even to think about Ramon hereafter. The pieces were slowly, and gradually falling into their respective places. Everywhere I looked, a piece of the puzzle peered back at me. Why would people refer to each other always by their nicknames? The title music of 'the Godfather' was playing itself over and over again at the back of my mind.

The software that I had just designed to arrange for money influx was to be used to organize the flow of money directly into bank accounts, with no human intervention. Credit cards could be used, as all the channels were overseas accounts. I was not asked to make it hacker-proof, my orders were to make sure everybody saw the eye of the Eagles Corp on the page. The 'company' had a webpage to receive payments. I had rigged everybody's phones with triggers to send back location data to the main servers. Everybody was on the map, nobody could escape. Anybody could be contacted anytime, I had enabled Push-To-Talk technology on every phone.

My discomfort didn't go unnoticed. A week after everybody got done looking at me as if I was the white sheep in the family, I was called into the 'conference' room for a talk. I stared at the upside down 'NO' and met Mr. Sandler who politely broke the ice, "Brad, how's the company functioning?". I am not sure whether I nodded, or my head bobbed in an attempt to duck the fussilade of imaginary bullets.

"Brad, we have to talk." Mr. Sandler looked hard in the eye when he said that.

Damn, that bastard must have slept with my ex-girlfriends, where else did he pick that up. And all of them must have broken up with him using that line, just as they did with me. Served him right, I thought. "Yes, Sir. Mr. Sandler.", I replied.

"The time has come where you have to be rewarded handsomely for your services to Eagles Corp."

Didn't they shoot somebody down after sayin' the exact same sentence in some movie. Thank God, I had visited the men's room before I walked into the conference room.

I rubbed my neck in anticipation. "I am very happy with what I get, Sir!"

"No, no...You have to be promoted. I have been thinkin' about you for a long time now." What company gives a promotion in 3 months, I thought.

Well, come what may, I had gotten myself into this mess, and I had to get out. Resignation, are you kiddin' me! There is no such thing as 'resigning' from Eagles, you get out when you are fired, or 'fired', depending on how that term is executed. I couldn't run anywhere, as I didn't have another job. I wished, the wool had been in it's place, and I had not noticed anything. Life would have been such a bliss.

"Brad, how would you like to be a partner in business?" Is it not a sin to be messing around with a dying man? Why was Mr. Sandler doin' what he was doing? He was a sadist, damnit. I have seen him in action before with other employees. The best way to crush a person is to do it mentally, is to kill a person from within. What else could I say about a man, who has a sign in the parking lot, 'Exclusive Parking for Mr. Sandler. Trespassers will be eaten by the Eagles.' Another piece had fallen into it's place.

I smiled my best smile, not knowing what to say to the unfolding drama. Mr. Fowler, our chief head hunter, the true meaning of the term struck me hard, was smiling at me. Damn, everybody was a partner in this company. I was probably being recruited to 'fire' somebody. I was not very much off the mark.

"But before that you have to do one last brave thing." I am a Business Analyst, atleast that's what academia would vouch for, and the bravest thing that a business analyst could do was to open up his own company, and I hadn't even done that. So my 'brave acts' record was sparkling clear. I swallowed hard and blurted, "What would that be, Sir!"

From then on, it was made clear that I was to go my competitor's office, bribe somebody to be the insider, obtain news and corporate secrets. I heaved a sigh of relief. Phew. I could do that.

The meeting ended shortly. I am usually driven around in a chauffered company vehicle, but I was handed over the keys to a company car, and was told that it was to be used for my personal benefits. I was elated, the guys had done a great job at darning the wool.

I put the keys in the ignition, fired the engine, and was all smiles, until I noticed that the 18-wheeler truck had also turned it's lights on at the exact same time. I knew it was time to escape.

Fictional Realm!